


All Part Of The Plan

by Marie_Phantom



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dark Knight (2008), Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: All Three Movies, Joker Related Violence, M/M, Scar Story Revealed, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:56:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Phantom/pseuds/Marie_Phantom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is a joke, and we're all along for the ride. But so long as Batman is cleaning up Gotham, Jack's gonna get some of the action too. Now, all he has to do is make sure no one can link him to his kid brother, the giant and his mad scientist in the sewers don't scare people out of Gotham, and his massive lust filled crush on Batman isn't revealed. </p>
<p>Sounds easy, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why Do We Fall?

**Author's Note:**

> Well, might as well get this one out there. For all those following my Bond story, I am still writing it, but I'm writing all of it and then positing it, so you wonderful people don't have to wait for chapters. But I have always loved Batman, and especially Heath Ledgers Joker, whom gave Batman a truly worthy opponent.
> 
> Be nice. No flames please.

The first, and last, indication to Jack that something had gone terribly wrong was when he heard an almighty crash in the living room, followed by Robin's shriek of surprise. Jack took a very deep breath and set down his knife, which until 30 seconds ago had been cutting carrots for the stew. He set his jaw and squared his shoulders, moving to stride into the room and give Robin a earful about breaking their fifth TV.

"What the fuck did I tell you-". Jack got that far when he stopped and fully assessed the scene in front of him.

Robin was sitting on their ratty sofa, pressed deep into the pillows and staring with wide eyes at their TV screen, which had been showing cartoons, but was now showing a large manhole lid, which had sailed through their window and planted itself merrily into their tiny box of entertainment. Robin himself wasn't moving, not even shaking. Jack shook himself like a dog and moved slowly to his brother, keeping in his eyesight and reaching out a hand to shake his shoulder.

"Squirt?"

Robin let out a deep breath and relaxed, flopping limp like a wet rag. Jack didn't move him, but allowed him to lie on the sofa while he moved to the window to see what the problem was.

"Oh shit!" he said, moving quickly away when he saw that a cloud of white gas was moving swiftly towards their open window. Jack knew they were seconds from being engulfed in the substance, and he ran to the sofa, grabbing Robin by his t-shirt and hauling him to the bathroom.

"Jack!" Robin exclaimed, struggling to get out of the tight grip.

"Get in the bath, cover your face." Jack said, pushing Robin into the bathroom and slamming the door. The slam swallowed up Robin's reply's and Jack continued to move through the apartment, quickly locking his front door. He then ran to his own room and grabbed his gun from underneath his pillow. Checking the cartridge, he saw that he had enough bullets to last. With that in mind, he raced to his closet and quickly shoved the shoebox full of cash into his bag. After that he hurried to Robin's rooms and ransacked his drawers, shoving every item of clothing he could into the bag. When he had finished, he went into the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife he could find. He went to the bathroom and knocked on the door.

"Who, who is it?" Robin sounded shaky, and Jack gritted his teeth.

"It's me squirt."

There was a click and the door slid open enough for Jack to slide in. He quickly locked the door behind him and looked at Robin. The boy was worrying the end of his t-shirt, trying not to appear as scared as he was. Jack quirked a lip and ruffled Robin's pitch black hair.

"Inta the tub, kid." Robin obediently climbed in and settled down, watching as his brother checked the door again. He gasped when he saw Jack pull out the gun and settle down on the toilet, pointing it at the door.

"Jack, what's happening?" he whispered. Jack shook his head.

"I'm not sure squirt. Far as I can tell, the Narrows is going to hell."

There was a beat of silence, before Robin piped up "But I thought you would enjoy that kind of thing."

Jack cackled. "Wrong kind of madness." He looked at his kid brother, crouched low in the bath, and his laughter died.

"Go to sleep."

Robin was about to reply, when he saw the look on his brothers face. It was a look that said that it would be pointless to argue, and that Robin had better do what he was told if he knew what was good for him. Robin lay down in the tub and pillowed his head on his arms, his breath condensing on the porcelain.

Jack cast an eye on the kid, making sure that he was asleep. When he saw that Robin was out, he shoved the gun down the back of his trousers and pulled out the knife. He ran a thumb against the sharp edge, and satisfied that it was sharp enough, settled back against the cistern, keeping an eye on the door.

Throughout the night, his tongue kept a steady rhythm, flicking in, out, and around the scars adoring his face.

 

*JxB*

 

"Where are we going?" Robin asked for the seventh time as he followed his brother through the streets. All around them, there were people staggering, some wailing, some biting their fingers to keep themselves from screaming. People in their homes looked out of their windows, amazed that someone was already out on the street given the madness that had happened the night before.

Jack gritted his teeth and didn't answer, increasing his pace. He could hear Robin's shoes slap the pavement faster as he fought to catch up, and he knew he should slow down. But they were still in the Narrows, and Jack knew that the sooner they got out, the sooner that he could breath a little easier about Robin.

He grabbed Robin's hand and hurried along, his urgency and worry finally communicating itself to Robin, who didn't talk until they crossed the bridge and were on the other side of the river that separated the Narrows and Arkham Asylum from the rest of Gotham. When he was on the other side, he let go of his brothers hand walked to a concession stand, setting down a few dollars a getting a bagel and two bottles of water in return.

"Here, eat." He handed the bagel and one bottle to Robin, who was sitting on the curb, staring at his ratty trailers . Robin took the bagel and had a huge bite, bits spilling out of the corner of his mouth onto the pavement. Robin looked up under his fringe at his brother, who was staring down the street at something that Robin couldn't see.

Sadly, this was common enough. Jack frequently saw things that others couldn't see, or rather, that others chose not to see.

His scars were in stark relief, and he pulled up the corner of his coat to cover them. His lips were pursed, and he seemed to be deep in thought, although this too could be a ruse. Often enough, Robin had come across his brother staring into space, a frown or a grin on his features, and when he asked what Jack was thinking about, he got 'nothing' as a reply.

Robin hoped it was nothing, and that Jack wasn't having dark thoughts again, like he did when Robin first met him.

Jack glanced out of the corner of his eye at the little boy, and, seeing that Robin was finished, set off again. He heard the patter of feet again, and the two continued to make their was through Gotham, further and further into the den of madness.

Their progress halted however, when they turned on to a street and Robin halted abruptly with a sharp "No."

Jack sighed and turned. "You know you need to go."

Robin shook his head, his hair flapping everywhere. Jack noted absently that it was longer than normal, and that he needed to see someone to get it cut. Jack couldn't afford to do so. He would have done it himself, but Robin didn't trust him with a knife. Probably for good reason.

Robin didn't move, but continued to stand in the middle of the road. "No, I'm not going."

"This is not a discussion."

"I'm not going. I'm not. You can't make me."

"I can and I will."

"I'll run away!"

"You can try squirt but I'll find you and send you back." Jack licked his lips in agitation and stared up the street.

"I'll hide somewhere you can't find me!"

Jack burst into howls of laughter, clutching his stomach and creasing up. Robin worried his own lip as he stared at his brother. He knew Jack was changing, something was happening, had been happening for months now. But witnessing this change first hand was scaring him.

"Jack, stop!" He pleaded. The laughter cut of abruptly and Jack stalked towards him. Robin stood rooted to the spot, and thus couldn't move if he wanted to. Jack kneeled down and put his hands on his shoulders.

"Kid, there is no argument. You are going and that's final." He ran a hand though his tangles (needed a wash, couldn't afford shampoo. Or soap. Or much in the way of washing water), not even flinching when his fingers caught and he yanked them through.

Robin sensed an argument was a waste of time, and lowered his head. He didn't want to show any tears.

"It's not like I'm abandoning you." Jack put a gentle hand under Robin's chin and tilted it up, so Robin was looking at him again. "I'll visit every Sunday."

Robin gulped. "Promise?"

"I swear. You know I'm a man of my word."

Robin gave a shaky grin. "You never lie."

Jack stood up and took Robin by the hand. Together, they walker up the steps to St Swithins Orphanage. Jack banged on the door and waited for it to open.

"Jack." Father Reilly breathed, pleased that both Jack and Robin had survived the horror of the Narrows.

"Father." Jack nodded his head and tugged Robin forward.

"Ah." Father Reilly didn't say anymore. He knew that the situation had finally become desperate enough that Jack needed to send Robin to someplace safer. Robin himself didn't life his head, but continued to stare down at the ground, scuffing his shoe.

"Come in, please." He ushered them in and closed the door, directing them to his office. Along the way, people stared at Robin and Jack, Robin because they suspected (correctly) that he was going to be joining them soon, and Jack, because looking at him was akin to looking at a car crash. You know you shouldn't, that you might see something bad for you, but you couldn't help yourself.

Closing the door to his office, Reilly offered the seat in front of his desk to Robin, but didn't bother offering it to Jack. He knew he wouldn't take it.

"I'm sorry it has come to this." He said.

"Last night," Jack started, then stopped and licked his lips, trying to think of something to say. "Last night was...bad. I can't look after him anymore."

Robin whirled around in anger. "I'm not some dog!"

Jack fixed him with a steely gaze. "You're right, you're not a dog. See, if you were a dog, I'd shoot you to spare you living in the Narrows after last night."

Robin gulped and settled down into his seat, curling up into a small ball. Father Reilly ran a hand down his face and looked at Jack.

"I can take him. He'll be safe here."

Jack nodded. "That's what I want to hear." He licked his lips again and rocked on the balls of his feet. Father Reilly noticed with dismay that Jack was slowly getting much worse since he had last seen him. He supposed, in the very furthest corner of his mind, that Robin being here would be the best was to stop him turning into Jack. If Jack were only 10 years younger...

"Right, time to get you settled young Robin." Reilly stood up and walked to the door, opening it and gesturing to Jack and Robin to go. Jack walked out and headed for the front door, eager to let himself out before the waterworks started. He was stopped by Robin latching himself to the back of his coat.

"Jack, please don't go!" he exclaimed tearily. Jack sighed and turned around, lowering himself once again to speak to Robin in the face.

"Listen, this is the best for you. I can't look after you anymore."

Robin nodded. Jack smiled and ruffled his hair. "Every Sunday, I promise."

"You swear?" Robin whispered.

Jack nodded. "I swear."

Robin stood back, and Father Reilly put a hand on his shoulder. Jack nodded and strode out the door, closing it behind himself. He stood on the steps, feeling the breeze ruffle his own hair, and tipped his head back to look at the skyscrapers.

A newspaper floated down the road, and got caught on his leg as he walked back to the Narrows. He stopped and picked it up, looking at the front cover.

'BATMAN SAVES CITY FROM NIGHT OF TERROR'.

Jack's lips twitched until he broke out in a full smile. He smiled until it hurt, he smiled until it took over his whole face, his whole body, his whole mind.

'Batsy wants to play with the bad guys. Wants to have a little fun with Gothams scum?'

His thoughts were racing, his mind was whirling. He couldn't stop it, couldn't stop the images, the things he had been trying to suppress since he had taking in Robin.

Oh, what fun he was going to have. And, since Batsy was going around being so _serious_ , he needed something to lighten up his mood.

What are funnier than clowns?

 

*JxB*

 

_8 months later_

The manager was in agony. He couldn't move his legs, his stomach was killing him, and he had just watched the last clown standing load up his bus with the last of the mobs savings. He had to say something.

"Think you're pretty smart, huh? The guy that hired youze, he'll just do the same to you. Oh, criminals in this town used to believe in things. Honor. Respect. Look at you! What do you believe in, huh? WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE IN?"

He was stopped, however, when the clown shoved a grenade into his mouth.

"I believe whatever doesn't kill you, simply makes you," he took off his mask, and the manager stared in horror at the face of the Joker.

"Stranger!"


	2. You Bought It

It was pitifully, painfully easy to get into that meeting, and he was so pleased he got to show of his magic trick. Really, it had taken 5 different rapists for him to perfect it. And now, they were falling right into his cleverly woven trap.

"It's simple, we, ah, kill the Batman." 

He ignored the sniggers around him, and focused on the voice inside his head, which was telling him that this was all, part of the plan. He didn't want Batsy dead, not on his life. Really, did these mobsters and lowlifes simply think that because he seemed to be killing for money (horrible stuff) that he was one of them? He was nothing like them.

"If it's so simple, why haven't you done it already?" Maroni asked, sitting in his chair, giving the Joker a look of complete and utter distaste. This guy thought he could crash his meeting, and start handing out demands. It was slowly becoming a competition between Gambol and Maroni to see who would put on the hit first. 

"If you're good at something, never do it for free." Simple fact of life, that. He had quit his job at the warehouse, he needed a source of income, now that he was paying for Robin at the orphanage, and little sundry expenses, like dynamite, gasoline, and the 10 or so hand grenades he had sown into his coat lining. These things didn't come cheap.

The Chechen leaned forward, eager to get small matters of cost out of the way, so they could get to the goos stuff. Like killing the Batman. "How much you want?"

"Uh, half." 

More sniggers. Seriously, was what he was saying the funniest things they had ever heard, or did they have really bad senses of humour?

"You're crazy."

The Joker felt his temper turn, like a switch being operated, from jovial and easy going to murderous rage. If there was one thing that he hated more than anything in the world, more than his former landlord screwing him out of all hs money, it was being called crazy. He wasn't crazy, he WASN'T.

"I'm not. No I'm not." He licked his lips slowly, eyeing Gambol out of the corner of his eye and remebering what his digging had brought up on the crime lord. Oh yes, this was BAD man.

"If we don't do something now, soon, uh Gambol here, won't be able to get a nickle for his grandma." There was nothing better than tormenting mobesters and knowing that, all the time, you had the upper hand. Or thumb, in this case. He watched in amusement as Gambol slammed his hand down on the desk, finally at his breaking point and he smile widened when he saw Gambol curl his hand in pain. Really, one little slam and he was in pain. The Joker cracked his neck and flaxed his shoulders. Gambol knew nothing about pain. He ought to try having a smile permanently carved into his face.

Gambol started towards him, and the Joker sprang from his seat, opening his coat and displaying his full, winning hand. "Ah ta ta ta ta, lets not blow, this our of proportion." He could see Gambol doing a mental calculation of how much explosive he hand, and knew that there was enough there to level the undergroud kitchen.   
"You think you can steal from us and just get away?" 'What a stupid question." The Joker thought, and he made his answer reflect exactly what he thought.   
"Yeah." 'Duh.'

"I'm putting the word out." 'Oh goody, a chase!' "500 hundred grand for this clown dead, a million alive, so I can teach him some manners first." 

The Joker almost snorted with mirth. 'He has no concept of how manners were dished out in my house.' Nevertheless, he decided to play the game, and reached into his pocket to pull out a card. He offered it to them, telling them to contact him when they wanted to play to, and moved out of the kitchen, running as fast as he could when he got to the ground above. He quickly removed the granades and threw them in the river, using the oppurtunity to steal a car and drive it to his current lair.

The Joker cracked his neck and allowed himself a small congratulatory smile. He hadn't actually expected it to go that well, and now he knew he had some interest, he could allow himself to focus on rounding them all up. After all, it wasn't as if he actually wanted them on the streets. It wasn't safe for Robin, and there was more fun actually beating people at their own games than being a pawn yourself.

The Joker made his way to his warehouse, stepping inside and taking off his jacket. He allowed himself to relax slightly and settled in front of the TV. He needed all the rest he could get. 

Tonight he was finally going to meet his Batsy.

 

*JxB*

 

Batman had been expecting Gordon, even Harvey Dent when he reached the BatSignal.

He had not been expecting the Joker, who had been leaning against it and popping gum in boredom.

"Oh you made it, I'm so thrilled." He exclaimed, skipping over to Batman and attempting to clap him on the shoulder. Batman moved away, frowning as he regarded the clown. He was meant to arrest him, but he couldn't understand why the Joker would turn on the signal in the first place.

"You wanted me," he growled, "here I am."

"Uhhhhhm, yesssss." The Joker was beyond happy. He was finally meeting the Batman!

"Why are you here?" 

"Huh? Oh," The Joker remembered and bounced on his heels. "I've got information for you."

Batman frowned even more. "You're not an mole. Why would you give information to me?"

The Joker looked confused. "Becauuuuuuse, you're gonna need it."

"Why would I?"

"Because, you want to eradicate the scum from this town. You need what I know to do that." 

Batman shifted but looked interested. "What does it matter to you what happens in this town?"

"Lets just say I have an investment I want to keep safe. To be fair though," he said, sidling back towards the signal, " I think that in your mind, I'm as bad as the scum you want to put away."

Batman didn't answer, confirming the Joker's idea.

"Awwwww, Batsy, not fair!" He whined. "I'm like you, eradicating scum!"

"By stealing millions of dollars from the city."

The Joker raised a painted eyebrow. "Did you actually look at the men who came with me on my little field trip? Every one of them was one the GPD's Wanted list. I simply removed the hassle of catching them again."

"They should have stood trial for their crimes."

"In this city, the judges are just as crooked at the cops." The Joker spread out an arm, gesturing to the whole of Gotham. "Really Batsy, you think they would have gone to jail for long? My method is just a permanent solution."

Batman couldn't hep but agree. "And the money?"

The Joker looked a bit sheepish. He hunched his shoulders and looked at Batman from underneath his green hair. "I kinda needed a new suit. And I'm covering other expenses."

Batman was about to answer when the door burst open, and Gordon and Dent came careening on to the roof top. They immediately stopped to stare at the awkward tableau that was before them.

"Uh, are we interrupting?" Gordon asked.

"Nope Jimmy, you're just in time." The Joker bounced over and grasped Gordon's hand, shaking it wildly and dropping it quickly. He gave Dent a manic grin.

Batman stepped forward and got back into the Joker's eyesight, giving him something to focus on. "The information?" he asked.

"Oh yeaaaaaaaaaah. Lao's gone back to Hong Kong."

There was a stunned silence, as all three men tried to process that information, before Dent exclaimed angrily "I knew that shit had something to do with the money!"

Gordon was shaking his head. "That explains why all that was left in the vaults were marked bills. Somehow they knew we were coming." He turned angrily to Dent. "As soon as your office got involved-"

"My office! Your sitting down there with scum like Weurtz and Ramirez- Oh yeah Gordon, I almost had your rookie caught on a racketeering beat."

"Don't try to cloud that fact that clearly Maroni's got people in your office Dent!"

"Not just Maroni." The Joker murmured. 

"What?" Dent asked.

"What, you really think that it's just Maroni with informants. The entire mobs life savings were in those banks. Maroni's not the only one with something to lose."

"He's right." Batman said. The Joker gave Batman a blinding smile. Batman ignored him.

"But we can't do anything without Lao. And the Chinese wont extradite a national."

There was a beat of silence, before Batman said "I can get him to you, Dent. Can you get him to talk?"

Dent smiled grimly. "I'll get him to sing."

Gordon frowned deeply. "This is going to get ugly."

The Joker giggled in delight. "Oh, I hope so."

 

*JxB*

 

It was a bad signal, and frequently all he could listen to was radio Gotham, but somehow, he managed to pick up what was being said on the roofs by the precinct. He thanked whatever deity was up there that he was recording this, so that he could show his friend.

He picked up the tape, and, moving to the back of the rooms, flicked aside a curtain.

"I have something you ought to listen to." He said, offering it to the man lying in the bed.

"It is to do with our masked friend?" asked the man, breathing deeply afterwards.

The first man nodded. "It seems like they are going after the mobs."

The man in the bed twisted his face into an approximation of a smile. "Then I think it's time we offered out own aid to this venture. Can you make the guns ready Barsard?"

Barsad nodded and smiled as Bane. It was time for the to reveal themselves to Gotham.


	3. Where I Have Made My Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be sporadic, with no pattern to them.
> 
> I'm an Agent of Chaos.

Joker hadn't really aspired to be kidnapped, at all. He considered his abilities his general air of creepiness to generally keep people away from him. So he could honestly say he was surprised when, walking by the sewers to try and lose his tail, he was grabbed around the neck and had the butt of the gun introduced firmly to his forehead.

He woke slowly, giggling softly at the pain and groaning at the same time. To his surprise, he wasn't tied down in any way, but was lying softly on a bed, with an icepack wedged between his head and the pillow. He slowly sat up, keeping the ice pack on his head and blearily opening his eyes to look at the room he was in. He couldn't say that he was all that impressed by the decor, not that he could talk. The room was a solid brown, due to the brick, and the walls were coated with a light sheen of moisture. He could hear the sound of rushing water.

"Hello?" he called, standing gingerly. Now that he was up, he could see that someone had removed his shoes, taken his coat and jacket and unbuttoned his waistcoat. All of his knives were gone.

"If this is someone's idea of a practical joke, you reeeeeeeeeeally missed the punchline!" he yelled, ignoring his pounding headache. He walked slowly to the door and opened it, sticking his head out and looking at his surroundings. 

More brown, and he saw the source of the running water. If he knew his blueprints (and his knowledge was exemplary) he was in the main part of the sewers, when the main flows converged into the main flow, which ran down to the main flow into the drainage system, which in turn ran into the lake surrounding Gotham. Now he was here, he could smell the faint odour of sewage, and the sound of the rushing water was deafening to his ears and was doing no favours for his headache. The Joker grimaced and padded forward, trying to find his abductor before the man could cause any more cranial damage.

His question was answered when a man came around the corner. He was of average height, with lazy blue eyes and reddish brown scruff. Joker would have put his age at around late 30's early 40's. He was dressed in combat gear, with a scarf around his neck. The Joker took all of this in with a glance, and then felt a swell of rage fill his insides.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he hissed, stalking towards the man. The man held his ground, his face as impassive as an Easter Island head.

"In my defence," he said, his voice betraying a slight accent, "it wasn't my idea to bring you this way. I would have preferred to drug you."

The Joker raised an eyebrow. "And how would you have administered this drug? It's not as if I have drinking buddies."

"Blowdart."

"Seriously?

The man nodded. "I never joke." He held out a hand. "Barsad."

The Joker eyed the hand, and didn't extend his own. Barsad didn't seen to be offended, as he withdrew his. He then turned his back and walked back to where he had come from. When he didn't hear the Joker following, he turned around again.

"You should come."

The Joker snorted. "Should I really?"

Barsad nodded again. "Bane wants to see you."

"And who is Bane?"

Barsad smirked slightly. "My boss." He turned around again and walked again, disappearing around the corner. The Joker wrinkled his nose in thought, then shrugged and followed Barsad.

"Couldn't hurt." He muttered to himself.

His relative ease was quashed when he turned the corner into the new room and saw the size of the man lying on the bed. His jaw dropped. "How the hell have you managed to remain hidden? I thought that the zoo had all rhino's present and accounted for."

There was a huff from the man lying in the bed, and he shifted so that he was lying facing the Joker. "You are aptly named." He said. Barsad, who was sitting cross legged on a counter, snorted and muttered under his breath, "he's no funnier than Ra's was."

"Barsad." Barsad shut up.

The Joker rocked on his feet and stared around the room. It was decorated, as much as the sewers could be decorated, in tasteful rugs. There was a photograph sitting on the ledge, which depicted the man lying on the bed and Barsad, standing in the middle of the desert. Apart from the photograph however, there was no other personal touch in the room. 

"Nice place you have here." The Joker said. Bane huffed with amusement, which turned into a groan of pain. Barsad hopped off the counter and moved to the bed, where he picked up a bottle and carefully dripped a solution onto the rag covering the man's face. 

"It is our home."

The Joker nodded. "Weeeeeell, some people like houses, but who wants to be conventional?"

Bane nodded. "We have been watching you."

This made the Joker cold, a feeling he didn't like. It made a tiny ball of fear huddle in the pit of his stomach. "And whhhhyyyyyyyy have you been following me?" 

Barsad and Bane exchanged a look. "We feel that you could help us." Barsad muttered, obviously not impressed by the idea. 

"Listen," the Joker said, holding up his hands in a warding gesture, "I'm just low level. If you really want to help, then I suggest you go higher. Like, sky high."

"We have trouble contacting the Batman." Bane said.

"You don't." Barsad added.

The Joker frowned. "It's not really that difficult to contact him."

Barsad snorted. "It's not really easy for us to blend in." He got that far before the Joker burst into peals of laughter, holding his belly and doubling over. They let his continue to laugh before Barsad said loudly "I don't see what's so funny." 

"Its, it's, it's just," the Joker hiccupped, "you think I blend in!" And he was off again. 

"The people know your face." Bane said quietly. That made the Joker stop laughing and walk closer. 

"They only know my face because I've been busy."

"Busy robbing banks." Ban observed, but there was amusement in his voice.

The Joker shrugged. "Mob banks, and that money wasn't doing any good sitting there."

"I see you've put it to good use." Barsad said, nodding to the Joker's suit. The Joker grinned but didn't say anything. There was a silence, before the Joker checked his wrist (no watch) and said, "Well, this has been fun, but I've gotta go..."

"We want you to arrange a meeting, so that we can meet that Batman." Bane said, sitting up with difficulty.

"Yeah, that's not going to be as easy as you think."

"We know you can do it. You're the only one who speaks to him regularly."

The Joker giggled. "I've only spoken to him once."

Barsad nodded. "But you follow what he's been doing. Like you know that now, he's in Hong Kong, getting back that accountant that you tipped him off about."

The Joker was nodding slowly, flicking his tongue out as he thought. "I think I can arrange something. But don't expect miracles."

Bane and Barsad nodded together, exchanging a look that only they could read.

"Right, so now we have that cleared up," that Joker clapped his hands and looked around, "lets say we talk about me getting out."

Barsad hit him in the head again. 'Some old, no variety. Boooooorrrrrriiiiiinnnnggggg!'

 

*BxJ*

 

Bruce Wayne eyed the signal as he sat by the window of his apartment. He had only been Batman for a few months, and yet he recognised that Gotham was a city unto itself. Meaning that he was staring to recognise that Gotham was attracting every wierdo that side of the Atlantic.

Like this Joker. Bruce couldn't decide whether the man was a villain or one of them. Every deed he did seemed to be a crime, until you looked at the whole picture and saw that what he had done was actually something good. 

He was a living contradiction.

He rubbed his hand along his eyes. He was tired, and the flight back from Hong Kong, passenger in tow, had not been easy. 

"Tea, sir?" Alfred asked, brandishing a mug. Bruce accepted it with a murmur of thanks and sipped it, relishing the almost unpalatable heat.

"The Joker, Alfred. You have any thoughts?"

"I think sir, he's a man without limits. Someone who just wants to watch the world burn."

Bruce sensed the hesitation. "But, there's something else, isn't there."

Alfred nodded. "Nothing he has done has actually been of detriment to the general public."

"He killed people at the bank."

"But you yourself sir have looked into those histories. Robbers, rapists and murderers. He is killing the scum of Gotham, by having them commit crimes with him."

"Criminal aren't complicated Alfred." Bruce said, frustrated that he couldn't figure the Joker out. 

Alfred snorted. "This one is." Bruce smiled faintly in agreement. 

"We'll just have to see what happens. Keep the world spinning." Bruce said, standing up and stretching.

"Indeed. And might I suggest sir," Alfred said, following Bruce to the bedroom, hoping beyond hope that his master was actually going to sleep for once, "that you actually talk to him properly next time?"

"What makes you think there's going to be a next time?" Bruce asked.

"From that way you described him, sir, I have a feeling he's not finished with you at all sir. Not at all."


	4. Why So Serious?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be sporadic, but, here is chapter 4! No flames please, my writers soul is a delicate creature.
> 
> Italics are showing flashbacks.

"C'mon Robin, kick his ass!" Jack put his fingers into his mouth and blew, emitting a perching whistle that caused several onlookers to glare at him and edge away. He ignored them, instead focusing all his attention on Robin as he sprinted up the field, weaving in and out of soccer players like a pro. His tongue flicked out of his mouth, a habit and also a precaution, checking to see whether the latex hiding his scars was still in place.

Robin kicked the ball as hard as he could, giving it the momentum to send it sailing into the net, and he whooped loudly, just as the whistle went to signal the end of the game. He ran over to Jack, forgetting that he was a mature 12 year old, overjoyed to see his brother.

"Did ya see? Did ya see? I won, I helped win!" He jumped into Jack's open arms, who then spun them around like a merry go round.

"You were amazing, squirt. Real class." Robin grinned, his eyes crinkling in such a way that people could see the resemblance to Jack. He wriggled out of Jack's grip and pulled at the bottom of his shirt, suddenly shy.

"How long are you staying for?" he asked, not looking up from under his fringe.

Jack smirked and reached out to push the fringe back so he could meet Robin's eyes. "Got permission for you to come out with me this evening to dinner." Robin's eye widened.

"Really?" Jack nodded. Robin then hugged jack quickly around the waist before dashing inside the orphanage, yelling to his friends that he had first dibs on the shower. Jack watched his go, his face impassive but his eyes happy.

"It's good to see you Jack. We don't see nearly enough of you around here." Jack turned in surprise to find Father Reilly standing next to him. Reilly knew by now not to extend a hand for Jack to shake, as it would only be looked at briefly then ignored. Jack gave Reilly a quick grin before fixing his gaze upon the door where Robin had disappeared. He rocked back and forth on his heels, his hands shoved deep into his pockets of his back overcoat. Despite the Joker's devil may care attitude to being noticed (indeed, he wanted to be noticed), Jack preferred to keep his private persona separate. Hence the non flashy clothing and the apparent lack of scars on his face.

"I'm kinda busy as the moment. Need to keep my head down and stuff." He said, without turning to Reilly. He knew that Reilly knew about him being the Joker, but, like all people covering something up for the sake of someone they cared about, he kept his trap shut and feigned complete ignorance as to who the Joker actually was.

"Robin misses you."

"I'd be offended if he didn't." Jack gave Reilly a sharp grin and moved to the door, where Robin had reappeared, freshly showered and wearing his second best jeans.

"Ready to go squirt?" Jack asked, putting an arm around Robin's shoulders and steering his gently to the gate door. "Yeah. Where're we going anyway?" Robin asked, trotting to keep up with Jack's long strides.

"Nothing fancy. Ya know what Italian near where we used to live. Thought I might treat us to a little spaghetti."

Robin gaped. "No way! How'd you afford a place like that?"

Jack grinned again, a small, dark smile that lit his eyes with black fire. "Oh, lets just say I came into some money recently."

 

 

*JxB*

 

 

"Ya wanna know how I got these scars?" Jokers voice was soft, almost caressing Gambol's ears as he leaned in close. He pulled back and savoured the look of terror on his face, before rolling his eyes and pulling a story from his mind.

"My father, was a drinker, and a fiend."

_"The fuck? How'd you find me?"_

"And one night, he goes off crazier than usual."

_"Darla, Darla. Get the fuck out of here. Go into the kitchen, go with the boy. I'll deal with this." Pause, no movement. The man moves to the woman raising a hand. The woman shrinks back, moaning faintly in fear. A small boy pears out of his room. He eyes the young man at the door. The young man looks back. The boy can't be more than seven._

"Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself."

_The women is crawling away from the man. The man follows. He has forgotten about the young man at the door,_ _who comes in to the apartment. The boys opens his door wider. The young man puts is finger to his lips. "Shhhhh." He says._

"He doesn't like that. Not. One Bit."

_"The man is beating the woman in earnest now. He has forgotten about the young man, who is watching with a blank look on his face._

"So, me watching, he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it."

_The human body holds about 8 pints of blood. It may not seem like_ _a lot, but it does spread around. The kitchen is painted red. The young man can hear the boy hyperventilating behind him. He makes not move to help the woman. She's dead anyway._

"He turns to me, and he says "Why so serious-suh?""

_The young man is standing_ _over the man. The man is whimpering in fear. One side of his cheek is showing far to many teeth. The young man is now grinning, and asks "Why so serious?"_

"He comes at me with the knife. "Why so serious-suh?""

_"Why so serious?"_

"He sticks the blade in my mouth. "Let's put smile on that face.""

_"I've finally put a smile on your face."_

"Aaaand," Joker looks away, to the cowering henchman on the floor. He keeps his eyes on him, relishing the fear. "Why so serious?"

_"I'm Jack. You're my brother Robin. Let's get out of here."_

Joker rolls his shoulders and pulls the rest of the garbage bag off. He was glad he had worn it, as the spray from Gambol would have been a bitch to clean out of his suit. He looks over Gambol's lackeys, and, noticing that none of them looked to be particularly devastated by the death of their boss, carried on talking.

"Now, out operation is small, but there's a lot of room for aggressive expansion." Joker grabbed a pool cue and eyed the middle. "So which of you fine gentlemen would like to join our team? Oh, there's only one spot open right now so we're going to have tryouts." He snapped the pool cue over his knee and eyed the ends, pleased that he had managed to get both ends reasonably sharp. He dropped one of them on the floor and walked away, throwing an aside over his shoulder to his own men.

"Make it fast."

Walking outside, Joker rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms high above his head, loosening the muscles. They had been in the same position for over an hour whilst he played at being dead. He looked up to the sky and sighed, disappointed that the Batsignal was not shining. Although, he rather suspected that Batman was acquiring Mr Lau so he could bring him back to Gotham. As for this evening, he had eliminated one mob boss, and it was the one that had really ticked him off. 

'Not a bad days work.' He thought to himself. He was about to step away when he heard a noise behind him. He turned and frowned when he saw his men and the one lone survivor stumbling out. Joker gritted his teeth in annoyance.

"This one lived, boss." One of his flunkeys said. Joker grinned and pulled his gun out of his pocket, shooting all of them dead. 

"Don't need 'em. Don't want 'em." He muttered as he dragged the bodies to the curbed and tied them together, making them all sit up back to back. He pulled a scrap of card from his pocket and a pencil and scribbled "To Gordon, with love, Joker." Joker pinned it to the coat of one of the men and skipped away, humming Ode to Joy under his breath.

The next morning, the Joker nearly inhaled his cereal through his nose when he saw that Batman had indeed been hunting Lau, and had dropped him off to Gordon as well, with a little note. Joker cackled in delight, holding his stomach to try and keep the mirth in.

"Oooooh, Gordy, you lucky, lucky man. Two pressies in one night? Someone would think it was Christmas!"

The Joker put his cereal down and went to wash off his makeup. He wanted to be as bland as possible when he saw the mob getting taken down.

 


	5. Good evening, Ladies and Gentle Men!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, updates will be sporadic and not set to any timetable. However, here is a chapter for you to enjoy.
> 
> Flames will not be appreciated.
> 
> Reviews are love.

Bruce eyed the video playing on the news with distaste. In his time with the League of Shadows, he had been put under conditions where one might suggest torture, but it was only to strengthen his body. His mind hadn't been touched. This, however, was phycological torture at it's worst.

 

"Soooooooo, you may as well tell me your name. It may be the last thing you ever do!" The voice behind the camera was smooth as silk, deep. To put it bluntly, it sounded posh, the voice belonging to the kind of people that Bruce Wayne mingled with.The man strapped to the chair whimpered. Bruce forced himself to look at the room he was seated in. It was dark, but he could make out the ledge of a leather couch behind him, and the edge of a painting could be seen in the top left corner of the screen. The walls themselves seem to have been painted a dark maroon, which added to the overall sensation of darkness. 

 

"Brian…Douglas." The man gasped, his voice quavering with fear. He wasn't looking at the camera, instead he was looking at the plush floor.

 

"And I take it, from your physique, that you aren't the real Batman?" The sneer was audible.

 

"N…no."

 

"Then why," the camera moved closer, "did you degrade the great costume by dressing up like him?" A hand came into shot, pulling away the mask and revealing the face of the bound man. Bruce felt a lurch in his stomach when he realised that he recognised the man. It was one of the wannabe Batmen he had encountered the other night, the one who had questioned Bruce's right to be Batman. Bruce put a hand to his mouth, feeling sick. He didn't think that his going out as Batman would actually endanger anyone else, aside from the scum of Gotham.

 

"He's a symbol, that…we don't have to be afraid of scum like you." There was an explosion of high pitched laughter from even further behind the camera. Bruce couldn't know for sure, but it sounded female. The man holding the camera said nothing, only moved closer.

 

"Oh, you do Brian, you really do." The hand moved again, grabbing Douglas's hair and moving his head violently. When Douglas whimpered again, the hand released him suddenly, as if disgusted. It slapped him softly in the face and Douglas turned his head to avoid the blows, in vain.

 

"So you think Batman's made Gotham a better place?" Douglas nodded softly.

 

"Look at me." Douglas didn't. 

 

"LOOK AT HIM." Screamed the second voice. Bruce was sure not it was female. Douglas slowly lifted his head and looked into the camera. The screen then abruptly switched to the holder, and Bruce was surprised by what he saw. It was a man, probably not much older than Bruce. He had brown hair hidden under a green bowler hat, and was wearing a purple domino mask. He was grinning widely.

 

"Hello Gothemites!" The camera shook as he moved away. "Riddle me this! What's big and black and comes out at night, and now should no longer be in the fight? For the safety of Gotham, I recommend that the Batman stops his war against the underworld and de-masks, or people will get hurt." The grin widened to an almost painful level, showing all his teeth. He looked like a shark. 

 

"I don't lie, so to show how serious I am, I'll start tonight. I'm a man of my word."

 

The high pitched laughter rang from the background, the camera shook, and the last thing anyone heard was Brian Douglas scream.

 

Alfred clicked the screen off.

 

"I thought," Bruce said slowly, "It might have been the Joker."

 

Alfred sighed and sat down next to his master. "Master Bruce, lets look at all of the people the Joker has killed. He's killed rapists, robbers and murderers. He's killed members of the mob, drug dealers and child traffickers. In the nine months that he has been operating, has he actually killed anyone society would call innocent?"

 

Bruce looked incredulous at Alfred. "People just can't play God like that. Those people needed to be tried, needed to be put to the law. I don't kill people. I make sure that they can see a trial."

 

"With all due respect sir, did Ra's Al Ghul see a trial?'

 

Bruce flushed angrily and stood up. He walked swiftly to his room but stopped when he heard Alfred call back. "You may not have the same methods, Master Wayne, but you are working towards the same purpose. The Joker's methods are just more permanent."

 

Bruce turned around. "Alright then, aside from that, what's the difference between him and me?"

 

Alfred smiled bitterly. "I suspect, sir, that all it is is one bad day."

 

 

 

 

*JxB*

 

 

 

 

Jack was growling softly. The glass he had been clutching whilst watching the news had broken in his grip, lacerating his hand and causing blood to drip slowly.

 

It wasn't the death of Brian Douglas that angered him.

 

It wasn't the fact that now he had to face another problem on his way to cleaning up Gotham.

 

It was the fact that he _knew_ exactly who the woman was in the film. It was a woman who had stalked him whilst he had been at Arkham, a woman who had tried to dig into his brain to find out exactly who he was. A woman who professed herself to be in love with him.

 

"Harleen fucking Quinzel, you just made a BIG mistake."

 

 

 

 

*JxB*

 

 

 

 

"Lieutenant, that question mark card pinned to the body, they just found three sets of DNA." Ramirez hurried to catch up to Gordon, holind the copy of the report she had just been handed.

 

"Any matches?" he asked.

 

"All three. The DNA belongs to Judge Serillo, Harvey Dent and Commissioner Loeb."

 

Gordon frowned. "The Riddler's telling us who he's targeting. Get a unit over to Serillo's house and tell Weurtz to find Dent, get them both into protective custody. Where's the Commissioner?"

 

"City Hall."

 

"Seal the building, no one gets in or out till I get there."

 

"Got it."

 

Jack had never moved so fast in his life. He had bugged Gordon's phone months ago, and since the man never went anywhere without it, he always had a feed into what was happening. And since he couldn't give a whit about the Judge (divorced twice, sleeping with a married man, good record though) and the Commissioner (cheating on his taxes, taking bribes from the mob. Didn't go to his daughters dance recital, claimed he was too busy when he was having dinner with Maroni) he knew exactly who he was going for.

 

It was like a switch in his brain. Jack went to the back, locked behind a wall and not allowed to come out until the make - up was off, and the Joker sashayed out, all deadly knives and killer eyes. It wasn't actually a difficult switch to make.

 

He pulled on his suit, making sure in his haste he buttoned all of the buttons correctly. He may have been in a hurry, but as least he wanted to look good. If his suspicions were correct, he knew exactly who was going to get Dent. He applied his face with care, making sure none of the lines ran, although he still looked a bit of a mess. He then ran to the door, filling his pockets with the knives he had waiting and grabbing his favourite pump action shot gun. Joker knew that the person who was currently crashing Wayne's party was all about the image and the violence, and he didn't want to disappoint. Finally, he shut his door, locked it quickly and ran to his car. It was an old nissan, barely big enough for himself. Something else bought on the mob dime. 

 

He drove as fast as he could, faster than the speed limit allowed, although luckily no cops were on the roads to catch him. He was glad.

 

He needed all the time to get to the party and stop that little bitch from killing Gotham's White Knight.

 

 

 

 

*JxB*

 

 

 

 

"We made it!" Weutz toppled over and a figure in skin tight spandex cartwheeled over him, landing legs spread in the middle of the room. The guests reared back as one and eyed the intruder.

 

It wasn't the Riddler. Rachel didn't know whether to be relieved or anxious over who it was instead. 

 

She was small. That really was the first thing you noticed about her. Small and lithe, and very very flexible. Her blond hair was in two pig tails, and Rachel could see that she had brown roots, showing that the hair was dyed. Her face was made up to resemble the Joker, with a white face, black sockets and black lips. She was wearing a black a red corset, and as it rode up, Rachel could see that she had four diamonds tattooed on her hip. Her leather trousers were patterned black and red, with knee high boots, one black and the other red. She was wearing fingerless gloves, from her elbow down. 

 

And she was packing two Uzi sub machine guns, attached to the middle of her back and within easy reach. 

 

"Hiya!" she exclaimed, bouncing around. The men behind her, all wearing clown masks, moved quickly, blocking all the exists. 

 

"Hi!" She stopped, snatched a champagne glass out of someone's hand and swallowed it down. "Y'all may not know me, but I'm Harley Quinn!" Rachel felt her stomach drop. She knew that name, had been part of the prosecution against her for misconduct and gross negligence at Arkham.

 

"Aaaand, I need your help." She suddenly stopped and focused, becoming suddenly more dangerous. 

 

"Where is Harvey Dent?" she asked. Rachel sucked in a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

 

"Do ya know who he is? Know who he is?" Quinn was now making her way along the guests, smacking each one lightly in the face. "Do ya know where I could find Harvey? I need to talk to him about something, just something, a little? No."

 

Rachel was slowly squaring herself up, trying to find the courage to confront Quinn, when the situation was exacerbated by a guest saying "You look like a second rate version of the Joker."

 

Quinn puffed up like a toad and grabbed the man by his tie, bribing his face down to her level and snarling "Wanna say that again?"

 

"Okay, stop." Rachel stepped out from the crowd, who parted like the Red Sea before Moses. 'Cowards.' Rachel thought as she stood alone before the mad woman. It felt like a scene from a horror movie. Quinn slowly turned her head to see who had interrupted her, and her face went blank with rage. 

 

"You." She whispered. Rachel felt the hair on her arms raise, but she squared her shoulders and stood her ground. Quinn was slowly moving towards her, and Rachel, an agnostic at the best of times, started to silently pray.

 

Quinn would have dispatched Rachel quickly and with a great amount of blood, when a gunshot into the air stopped her and everyone else. Eyes were drawn to the man standing at the elevator door. No one had noticed it go down and then come back up.

 

Joker strode into the room, already seeing the clowns keeping the guests at bay and the ring leader advancing on Harvey's squeeze. "Good evening ladies and gentle men!" He said. "We," he gestured to the intruders and himself, "are tonights entertainment!" He picked up a stick and ate the cherry tomato at the end, his mouth opening and closing obscenely. To be honest, at times like this, it was all about having fun. Like Harley, he was also about to enquire as to the whereabouts of Harvey Dent, if only to assure his own quickly pacing mind that the White Knight was safe, when a name spoken in reverence brought his questioning to a rapid and screeching halt.

 

"Puddin'." Harley breathed softly. The Joker visibly winced, then turned murderous eyes on the wench clown. Once upon a time, she might have been his type. Maybe in another universe, they shacked up together in some kind of weird, dysfunctional relationship with 2.5 hyenas.

 

Not in this one, though. Now, Joker had something else to keep an eye on.

 

"Oh, it's you." His voice was flat. 

 

"I." Harley gulped, and felt her hands start to sweat. "I hope you got my message."

 

The Joker feigned disinterest, examining his overcoat sleeves for lint (ignoring the fact that they were covered in greasepaint) whilst keeping Rachel Dawes in the corner of his eye. He'd been reading up about her. Spunky girl, that one. Unfortunately, this was one fight she would certainly lose.

 

"Nope."

 

Harley visibly deflated.

 

It could have been left at that, but Harley was on a mission, and if she couldn't have the approval of her one true love, she could have the approval of his replacement. Before either Joker or Rachel could move, Harley had seized Rachel's arm and was pointing a small, previously concealed handgun at her head.

 

"Now," she crowed, "since I couldn't find Mr Dent, I'll just have to settle with his loved ones."

 

"I…I'm not intimidated by you." Rachel gasped. Joker was particularly arrested by the vein throbbing quickly in her neck. 'She  _is_ scared.'

 

"Shut up. Who cares what you think?" Harley snarled. The Joker bounced softly from foot to foot, loosening up his shoulders and preparing to execute a dive if one tendon in Harley's wrist even looked like it was going to tighten. He watched, fascinated, as Rachel brought back her elbow and then drove it firmly into Harley's stomach. Harley bent over, gasping for air. The Joker whooped with laughter and delight.

 

"A little fight in you." He said to Rachel, almost bouncing with glee. This was going to be  _fun_. "I like that."

 

"Then you ought to love me." The Joker's skin tingled and he turned to see Batman glowering at Quinn, muscles braced for a fight. Unfortunately, the Batman seemed to be bound the universal rule of men that  _You Did Not Hit Women._

 

The Joker, on the other hand, did not.

 

The Joker was glad that he had sought to reinforce his shoe with a little extra protection, because as he brought it up to Harley's side, he thought briefly that if he hadn't all she would be getting was a bruise. She screamed beautifully and dropped like a stone. Rachel leapt out of the way as the rest of the clowns descended upon them like locusts. They stood back to back, each man covering the others blind side. The Joker was laughing with glee at each punch, waving his knife with no real directing and slitting veins, tendons and, on one occasion, a throat with the joy of a child at play. In a small distant part of his mind, he noticed that the blood was soaking through, and that he needed to get the suit into soak as soon as possible. 

 

His joy was stopped suddenly when he turned and saw Harley was standing up by the window, Rachel once again in her grasp. 

 

"Drop the gun." Batman rasped.

 

"Okay, sure." Harley rasped. She was leaning heavily on Rachel. "You just take off your little mask and show us all who you really are." When Batman didn't answer, she shot out the window behind her and held Rachel over the opening.

 

"Let her go."

 

The Joker winced. "Very poor choice of words." He said, and jumped out of the window at the same time Harley let go. Rachel was already screaming as she slid down the face, her hands outstretched. The Joker grabbed one of her wrists and then scrabbled to find a hand hold, getting more and more frantic as they slid closer to the vertical drop. He felt Rachel go over, pulling him along, when his hand grabbed the edge and his fingers tightened, holding them both over the edge. He hooted with laughter when his shoulder wrenched; the pain excruciating. Joker felt Rachel kicking against the wind, her other hand gripping his tightly where it clung to her wrists.

 

"Will you stop FUCKING MOVING?" He roared down to Rachel, who froze.

 

The Joker didn't know how long they dangled there. It was probably only a minute, but it felt like months. Finally, Joker saw Batman scale down the ledge towards them, his grappling his firmly attached to the window ledge. He grabbed Joker's arm and pulled him swiftly back over the edge, bringing Rachel with him. With them both secured in his arms, he started to retract the hook, and all three of them slid along the glass and back into the safety of the pent house. Batman stood up and noticed that Alfred had cleared the room, but he also noticed that Quinn had escaped. He growled softly in his throat and looked back down on the floor, where Joker and Rachel had yet to stand up.

 

"Let's not do that again." The Joker said, trying and failing to get feeling back into either of his arms. Rachel gave an hysterical giggle and Batman gave a small smile. She stood up and walked to the cupboard where Dent was being kept. Just before she reached it, she turned back and gave both the Joker and Batman soft grin.

 

"Thank you." She said and let out her outraged boyfriend. By that point, both Batman and the Joker were gone.

 

In the lift, going down, the Joker leaned against the side and gave Batman a sidelong grin. "Sooooo, ya going after the Riddler or Quinn?"

 

"Both."

 

The Joker snorted. "Good luck to that." Batman reached out and pressed the halt button, stopping the elevator. He turned to the Joker. "Why do you say that?"

 

"The Riddler, yeah, you can get him." The Joker shifted, suddenly serious. He looked Batman in the eye. "But not Quinn."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Cause she's made in my own image. And as anyone knows, you cannot have the same things living in the same territory." The Joker flicked on the elevator again.

 

Batman hummed thoughtfully. "What will you do?"

 

"What any top predator does, when another one moves in on it's turf." The Joker gave a ghastly grin and stepped out of the stopped elevator, out of the open doors. "We go to war."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In absolutely no way am I saying that it is alright to hit women. I am using this to highlight the point that whilst the Joker may be on the side of Batman, he is still the Joker. Normal rules do not apply.
> 
> Harley Quinn is a character that had both fascinated and irritated me. I knew that I was going to have to include her when the Joker turned out to be more on the good side than I thought, and I needed a charter to both portray the Joker's side of the bad guy spectrum when the Joker could not be there, and to give the bad guy side the Joker's plot points when he was no longer able to do so. In my eyes, 1 Riddler + 1 Harley Quinn = 1 Joker.


	6. That's A Lovely, Lovely Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I profusely apologise for the wait, but I believe the excuse I have is good. I broke my left leg and nearly broke my right a couple of months ago, and so sadly the last thing I have been thinking about has bee updating my stories. Nevertheless, here is another chapter!

Jack is washing the makeup form his face when he hears the tinny phone ring from the other room. He sighs in irritation and moves to catch it, slinging the towel over his shoulder and letting his hair drip dry.

 

"Hello?" he says, his voice clipped. There is silence on the other end and he's just about to slam the phone down when he hears a wet gulp, before Robin says "Jackie?" in a small voice. Instantly Jack goes from irritated to concerned. He may be a psychopath, but he's not exactly heartless. 

 

"Kiddo? What's up, Kiddo?"

 

There's some wet gulping on the other end, before he hears Robin whisper "I'm lost."

 

"How are you lost?"

 

"There's some kids, at St Swithins. They...they...I..."

 

"Okay, okay breathe." Jack breathes slowly in and out, trying to focus Robin into breathing like a human being, and less like a startled rat. When Robin was breathing normally again, he asked "Tell me what happened."

 

"Okay." There's a wobbly sigh, and then Robin launched into a story of unjust bullying, hurt feelings and cruel accusations. Out of this, Jack can piece together that some punks at the orphanage accused Robin of being a 'gaylord', Robin didn't respond quickly enough to deny the accusation, and that gave the kids licence to whale on him until he ran away, trying to reach his older brother and getting a good way into the Narrows before realising that he had absolutely no idea where Jack lived. He was now wondering through the Narrows, talking to his older brother on a stolen cell phone, and trying not to seem as helpless as he really was. If Jack knew his brother well, and he did, he knew that even now there were some unfavourable types at this moment eyeing Robin like the best and tastiest piece of meat. Jack felt his blood pressure rise.

 

"You need to tell me where you are now. Stay there and I'll come and pick you up." He was already shrugging on his leather coat and heading for the door.

 

"On the corner of 12th."

 

Jack froze and closed his eyes slowly. That street was known locally as "Pedo Street." It had earned that name.

 

"Okay Robin, I need you to stay there and don't move. If anyone comes for you, say no. Stick to the curb like glue." It was difficult to speak on the phone and try and jam his keys into the ignition, but somehow Jack did it.

 

"Sure, I'll stay."

 

Unfortunately Jack lived on the other side of the Narrows, and t would take at least 15 minutes to get to the corner of 12th, and Jack asked every question under the sun to try and keep Robin talking, to try and make sure that he stayed on the street and no one grabbed him. He was driving as fast as he could whilst talking on the phone, and sooner or later he was sure that he was going to be caught by one of the few police that came to Narrows.

 

"Jackie, there's a man here looking at me." Robin sounded wobbly again, and when he said that, Jack nearly crashed the car.

 

"Don't look or talk to him. I'll be there soon, just don't move."

 

However, no sooner had be said that when Robin started yelling "LET GO! LET ME GO! MY BROTHER'LL BE HERE SOON AND HE'S GONNA BEAT YOU UP! LET ME GO!"

 

"ROBIN!" Jack cried into the phone and dropped it, flooring his car and trying to get to 12th as fast a possible. When he got there, there was no little black haired urchin waiting for him.

 

"Fuck!" he cried and draged his hands through his hair. He turned in a circle, keeping his eyes open as he looked for Robin, but there was no sign of him. 

 

He was about go get his knife out and start going from house to house, asking questions when a movement in an alley caught his eye. He stopped and Barsad emerged from the shadows. He looked better than the last time Jack had seen him. His clothes were cleaner and he had replaced the rag around his throat with a better looking keffiyeh. 

 

"Did you see? Did you see who took Robin?" Jack asked, his voice high and frantic.

 

"Yes." Barsad looked at him with a small smile. There was a pause."

 

"Well who?" Jack was nearly out of his mind with worry.

 

"I did."

 

Time seemed to stop for Jack, as everything slowed down. He could feel the blood pumping through his ears, and he felt his eyes getting impossibly wide. Dimly, he didn't think he had ever been this angry in his life, and that included the time he got his distinctive scars. 

 

"You fucking bastard." He said quietly before launching himself at Barsad, taking him by surprise. They toppled over a dustbin and landed hard, which winded Barsad further. He didn't put up a defence as Jack's hands went around his neck and started squeezing, he only gripped Jack's wrists and tried to speak around a closing throat. 

 

"He's....safe."

 

"Oh, really?" Jack snarled, tightening his grip.

 

"He's...with..." Barsad took a gulp when Jack adjusted his grip. "BANE!"

 

Jack was so surprised he released Barsad and sat back on his heels. Barsad shaved himself back and massaged his throat, giving Jack an incredibly dirty look. 

 

"Bane has him." Jack said, needing confirmation. The idea was so ludicrous what it could only be true.

 

"Yes." Barsad stood up and dusted of his jeans. He didn't bother offering a hand to Jack, still feeling bitter and a bit betrayed about nearly being strangled. "I saw him on the corner and took him to Bane. Once he calmed down, the boy told us you were coming for him and so I decided to wait for you."

 

"How nobel of you." Jack sneered. He stood up and jammed his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders and looking at Barsad out of the corner of his eyes. Barsad sighed and walked out of the alley, towards Jack's car. He opened the passenger side and got in. Jack huffed a small laugh at the rudeness and got into the drivers side, starting the car up.

 

"What a piece of shit." Barsad said with wonder in his eyes, looking around.

 

"Yes." Jack started the ignition and back out of the street, nearly running over a shifty looking man who was eyeing his hub caps. "But it's my piece of shit. Where to?"

 

"Onto 15th and down till the end."

 

"No longer living in the sewer."

 

"We've decided to come up to the surface like civilised people." Barsad grinned at him. "I think we fit in well, no?"

 

Despite himself, Jack laughed. "Around here, you fit in like a couple of peas in a pod. No one's gonna be interested in you or your 14 tonne roommate."

 

Jack had never low what to do when entering a house (not that he got many invitations) and so he kept his shoes and coat on as he shuffled in after Barsad. Barsad unwound his scarf and out it over the coat rack. He strode to where Jack presumed the kitchen was, so Jack followed him, his head occasionally twisting to look at the decorations. Despite living in what was arguably the worst area to live in in Gotham, Barsad and Bane had somehow managed to make the interior tasteful. Again, there were rugs, but now there was landscapes, depicting deserts and jungles Jack would never visit. For a single, fleeting second, he wished that he had the money to do that kind of thing. Perhaps take Robin somewhere other than a city, somewhere that would make his eyes go wide with awe. But the feeling was only fleeting, and he refocused in time to walk into the kitchen and gape at the sight.

 

Bane was standing by the cooker, flipping pancakes with ease. The scar that had covered his face before has been replaced by a metal contraption that came around his head and covered his mouth and nose. He was wearing a tank top that barley covered his chest, leaving his arms bare. Had Bane been his type, Jack would have started salivating there and then, but his type was more into black. And flying.

 

Robin was sitting at the table, chatting away to Bane as if they had been friends for life. 

 

"...and geography is really  _boring_. I just wanna quit, but my teacher says I have to study it. But I really don't wanna, I like history more, didja know what America is, like, a  _really_ young country? I didn't, but I learned this week, and..."

 

"Hey squirt." Jack said softly. Robin looked at his eyes widened.

 

"Jackie!" He hopped from the table and ran into Jack's arms, squeezing his waist as hard as his little arms could. Jack's arms went around his shoulders and he squeezed back.

 

"I was really scared, Jackie." He heared Robin mumble from his middle. He stroked his hand through Robin's soft, feather like hair.

 

"I know squirt." He pushed Robin away from him and kneeled down. "You cannot do that again."

 

"But I-"

 

"No." Jack shook Robin slightly to emphasise his point. "You cannot do that again. If t was anyone else other than these men, you would be dead or worse."

 

"What's worse than being dead?" Robin asked. Jack merely looked at him, the light showing his scars in harsh contrast. "Oh." He said softly.

 

"Now, I want you to turn around and meeting some friends of mine." He turned Robin around by the shoulders and pointed at Barsad and Bane. "The one in the scarf is Bastard and the one in the mask is Banal."

 

Bane chuckled briefly. Barsad looked at Jack with narrowed eyes. "Barsad." He pointed at himself. "Bane." He pointed at Bane.

 

"I know." Robin said and grinned at Bane, who crinkled his eyes back. 'Aw geez,' Jack thought, 'the kids got hero worship.' Bane turned around and put the last pancake onto an already towering stack, frizzing it with butter and syrup and putting it on the table. Robin immediately raced to the table and picked up his fork, scarfing down the food like it was his last meal. 

 

"Manners." Jack muttered, accepting a cup of what was probably the strongest coffee he was ever going to have. It looked lie sludge at the bottom of the cup.

 

"Thank you." Robin said, or tried to say through bulging cheeks. Bane nodded in gratitude. 

 

"Just because I don't have any manners doesn't mean that you get to skip them." Jack reminded him. He took a swig of the coffee and nearly chocked. Barsad grinned, unrepentant. 

 

"Now that we have got everyone safe and fed," Bane nodded to Robin, "we need to discus something with you this evening."

 

"Oh?" Jack asked, once he was able to talk. Bane nodded at him with serious eyes and jerked his head to the living room. Barsad went into there, Jack followed and Bane brought up the rear.

 

"Can I listen too?' Robin asked, jumping down from the table. Jack's head whipped around with denial firmly on his lips. However, he was intercepted by Bane.

 

"Not today, little one."

 

"Awwww." Robin pouted. Despite himself, Jack did think that the kid was adorable. Bane reached passed Robin and reached into a kitchen drawer, pulling out a wooden box.

 

"I would like you to solve this by the time we get back."

 

"What is it?" Robin asked, turning the box over in his hand. He could hear something rattling inside.

 

"A puzzle box. It can only be opened by a series of moves, otherwise it is impenetrable. Inside is a toy."

 

Robin's eye went wide. "For me?" he whispered. Bane nodded.

 

"He's surprisingly good with kids." Jack muttered to Barsad.

 

"You'd be surprised."

 

"Should I be worried?" 

 

Barsad shook his head and went back into the living room, Jack following after a moment. Inside was a large sofa, a couple of squishy chairs and a TV the size of an aircraft carrier. Jack raised an eyebrow.

 

"Somehow I didn't take you for the movie watching type." Barsad smiled.

 

"We like Fox news. We enjoy your lurid conspiracy theories and your somewhat covert racism, sexism and homophobia."

 

"It's not an opinion shared by a lot of people." Jack didn't know why he was defending people, he hated most of them.

 

"We know." Bane had joined the by that point at sat in one of the chairs, sinking comfortably into the depths. Jack stretched out on the sofa as Barsad retrieved something from a table. He handed it to Jack.

 

"What the fuck?!" Jack sat bolt upright and gaped to the page in front of him.

 

"We thought you might like to see that, if you hadn't already." Bane said, gesturing to the page. Jack couldn't believe his eyes. 

 

He was looking at Mayor Garcia's obituary. 

 

"He's not dead yet." 

 

"Yet?" Barsad said.

 

Jack waved his hand. "Semantics." He read the article quickly. It said that the Mayor would die tomorrow, at the parade for Commissioner Loeb. Shot in front of everyone. "Well fuck."

 

"Is that you?" Bane asked, nodding to the paper. Jack glared at him.

 

"I'm crazy, not stupid. I'm not gonna shoot the Mayor who's actually making a difference to this fucking city."

 

There was a pregnant pause. Dimly, he could hear Robin muttering to himself in the kitchen as he worked on his box. Finally Barsad shook himself from his thoughts and looked at Jack.

 

"What shall you do?" he asked. Bane looked at Jack with narrowed eyes. They asked the question as well. Jack thought for a while, then lay down again and stretched. 

 

"Well first, I'm gonna ring St Swithins to tell them that Robin is with me. Then I'm gonna sleep for a few hours on your couch. Then, I'm gonna steal a guards uniform and try to shoot the shooter before he can shoot the Mayor."

 

Bane nodded and settled back into the chair, reaching behind himself and chucking Jack the house phone. He was putting in the numbers of St Swithins when he heard Barsad mutter "We'll be joining you." Jack nodded at him and put the phone to his ear.

 

"I did it!" Robin came running in and kept onto Jack's stomach, causing his breath to hitch whilst on the phone. Robin leaned into the headset and yelled "HI FATHER REILLY!" before bounding over to Bane to show him the deconstructed box. Inside was a tiny, reproduction police badge.

 

"Well done young one." Bane ruffled Robin's hair, who grinned up at him. Jack could see that Robin was starting to blink more often, indicating tiredness.

 

"To bed, I think." Bane swept up Robin into his arms and walked to the steps, climbing up to where Jack presumed the bedrooms were. Jack finished his call and settled back into the cushions whilst Barsad stood up, stretched and walked to the steps as well. When he reached the door, he stopped and turned around.

 

"Do you think Batman will think you have done this?"

 

Jack slitted open his green eyes. His smile widened obscenely. "Nope, but I think he knows I'll be there."

 

Barsad scoffed. "You seem awfully sure of what Batman will do."

 

Jack closed his eyes again and settled back into the cushions again. His smile didn't lessen. "It's gonna be a great second date."


	7. You Can't Give In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is another chapter. We're really getting into the meat of the story, and soon, there will be the most fantastic car chase.
> 
> Warning for the Joker's potty mouth. He has no filter.

Joker was soooo. Fucking. Bored. Seriously, he could feel his brain melting in his skull from lack of use. Here he was, standing in line with a bunch of other people, holding a rifle. And doing fuck all. All he wanted to do was get out of this stifling uniform and back into his own clothes, but he knew that the minute he abandoned his post, Garcia was dead.

So here he was, on a cloudy day in Gotham, dressed like a twat and protecting a man he didn't even like. 

The things he did for justice.

He listened with half an ear to Mayor Garcia expound on the virtues of Loeb, all the while pursing his lips as he thought of what he could say about the man if he got the chance. All the corruption, all the scandal, it would send the papers wild.

Maybe he would leak it when this was finished, cause a stir.

Whilst he was standing there, his eyes flickered to the windows and apartments surrounding the square. If he knew his protégé, Harley would be camped somewhere close by, letting a rifle dig into her shoulder as she looked down the sight. It could happen soon, and, conscious of this, Joker's muscles were wound tighter then a spring. His rifle was loaded, not with blank shot like the others, but with live bullets. Ones he hoped he would get to use if the chance came. In his ear, he had a small transmitter, and he could hear Barsad on the other end, breathing slow and deep.

"Anything?" he asked under his breath, so softly that the man next to him didn't even hear.

"I'm tight, but, frankly, there's a lot of windows up here." Barsad sounded mildly irritated. He may have been a first class sniper, but there were only so many targets that he could deal with.

Joker sniggered slightly and stood up straighter, his back almost bending backwards.

"...vigilance is the price of safety." Garcia finished and sat back down. Out of the corner of his eye, Joker could see Gordon looking around, more and more tense. But he had to snap to attention, because he could hear the guard giving orders. He stood to attention, firing his gun and hoping that, if his bullet did hit someone, it would hit an idiot.

"Joker." Barsad said sharply. Joker didn't make a physical movement, but he became more focused. "Joker, there's a man, two away from you, sweating like a pig."

Joker looked out of the corner of his eye. He saw the man, and his lips curled.

"Schiff."

"You know him?" Barsad asked. 

"In Arkham with me." The guns fired again, and now Joker was breaking cover, staring at Schiff as his muscles twitched.

Joker felt the pieces fall into place in his head, and started to smile in grim amazement. "Oh, he's very clever."

"What?" Barsad said, confused.

"Don't look at the windows, focus on the guards!" Joker said loudly, and then he ducked quickly as every single gun was swung towards him. He heard the shot, and then thump behind him as someone was hit. He ignored it, and instead shouldered his own rifle, focusing it on Schiff as he escaped into the crowd. He sighted along the barrel, and carefully squeezed the trigger. 

Schiff dropped with a cry of pain, and the Joker dropped his own rifle, running low and escaping into the crowd. He had intended to get Schiff and interrogate him about the plan, but the paramedics had got to him first.

"Shit." He swore and ran faster. There was silence on the other end of the radio, except for heavy breathing as Barsad too ran away.

Joker got to an strategically abandoned apartment and was changing out of his clothes when Barsad arrived. He looked peaked, and there was something in his eyes that made Joker pause in his disrobing.

"What?" he asked.

Barsad swallowed and then said softly "Gordon's dead." Joker felt his heart stop.

"Come again?"

"Gordon's dead. He put himself in front of Garcia and took the shot." Barsad sat his rifle down softly and ran a hand over his face.

The Joker felt numb, and as he licked his lips, he could taste nothing. He finished changing and then sunk to the floor, his back against the wall as he digested this information. Barsad joined him, and together, they stared into the apartment in silence.

"The only decent cop in the city, and he's fucking dead." Joker said eventually. He ran a hand over his face and through his hair, trying to bring himself together.

"There are others." Barsad said, but even he didn't believe what he was saying. Joker snorted.

"Not as good as he was."

Barsad rolled his head and stared at Joker. "You ever met him? I mean, as Jack."

Joker nodded slowly. "Once, when I first got out of Arkham. I was on the streets, doing anything for money, hooking, dealing drugs, anything you could think of. Gordon," Joker snorted slightly with laughter, "this dumb cop comes up, and says he could take me to a shelter. I don't want to go to a shelter, so I tell him to piss off, and he just, stood there, with this smile on his face. Next thing I knew, I had 500 dollars stuffed into my hand, and he told me there was a factory nearby bottling soda that needed the manpower." Joker gave a small smile. "He got me off the streets."

Barsad put a hand on his shoulder. "He sounded like a good man."

"He was."

The silence continued, until it was broken but a small, tinny noise coming from the Joker's pocket. He pulled out a phone and looked at the screen. Seeing Barsad looking, he explained "I had a tracking device in that bullet."

"Clever."

"I'm not that stupid, you know." He checked the screen and saw that Schiff had, for whatever reason, stopped in a warehouse in the Narrows. He pushed his lips in confusion, but stood up and shook his shoulders out.

Barsad stood up as well and said "I need to get back to Bane."

"I know. I'll see ya around."

Barsad nodded and stepped out of the building, heading in one direction whilst Joker went the other.

 

 

*JXB*

 

 

"You'd leave a man's life to chance?" Batman asked, catching the coin. Joker was standing behind Schiff, holding his head tightly as Dent had pressed the gun to the criminal's forehead. He was not above using torture to get results. In that way, the Batman and the Joker were total opposites. Dent huffed.

"Not exactly." Dent said, reaching out his hand for the coin. Batman didn't hand it over and instead looked at the Joker, who bore his gaze with a grim one. There was no smiling, not this time. Not when he had watched how far a good man could sink. Dent turned to Joker.

"Who-"

"Thomas Schiff, former patient at Arkham." Joker said rattling off the information from the top of his head. He released Schiff's head stepped around the chair, towards the arguing men.

Dent frowned. "How do you know?" Joker didn't answer.

"He's a paranoid schizophrenic, the kind of mind Quinn and the Riddler attracts." 

Dent nodded and digested this knew information. Batman moved away and Dent followed, shaking with rage. "That man killed Gordon, and he was going to kill Rachel!"

"Not him, but his boss. Besides, do you really think that someone with obvious mental problems would be able to come within five feet of Rachel without Batboy or you jumping the gun and killing him first?" Joker said, gesturing to the man sitting in the chair, who was now sagging in relief as it looked like he wasn't going to be killed. Joker was more worried about how Dent seemed to be handling the situation.

"You're the symbol of hope I could never be." Batman was telling Dent. Joker once again felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. "Your stand against organised crime is the first legitimate ray of light in Gotham for decades. If anyone saw this," he gestured to the room, to the whole situation, "everything would be undone. All the criminals you got off the streets would be released, and Jim Gordon would have died for nothing." Batman hades Dent the coin.

"You're going to call a press conference tomorrow morning."

"Why?" joker asked, not liking where this was going.

"No one else will die because of me. Gotham is in your hands now."

Dent looked stunned. "You can't! You can't give in!" He cried, feeling betrayed. His hands clenched the coin and he could feel it dig into the skin of his palm.

Joker didn't stand there, but strode to where Batman was disappearing. He reached out his hand and grasped Batman's stopping him.

"That's it?' Joker asked, incredulous. "All of this, gone up in smoke because one man is dead?"

"Gordon was not just a man!" Batman whirled around, snarling. He stared at the Joker's painted pain, and he could see no humour there, no guile. Instead, there was only plain naked anger.

"You don't think I know that? Jesus, he was the only good cop in this fucking city, you don't think I know what Gordon was? To people like us? For fucks sake, he put a fucking warning light with your symbol on it on top of the police station and blamed faulty wiring whenever it went off!"

Batman wrenched his hand away and stood taller. The Joker was a tall man himself, but he was still dwarfed by the sheer presence of Batman.

"Too many people have died because of me."

"That's what people do!" Joker cried, waving his hands in the air. He didn't see how Batman didn't know that. "This is war, Batman! People die in war!"

"There didn't need to be a war until I started it."

Joker laughed, loud and slightly hysterical. "This city was boiling. You think that you single handedly started this fight? Don't give yourself that much credit." Joker sneered. Batman bit his lips in an effort not hit the Joker. "This city was set to explode, and you only brought the conflict forward by a few months, if that."

"How could you possibly know that?" Batman asked.

"Because I was there! I could see the way people behaved. I could see the tension, I fucking lived in it." The Joker didn't realise he was giving away so much information about himself, so frustrated as he was with Batman.

"People are dying because of a symbol I created, something I caused." Batman looked at the ground, unable to meet the Jokers eyes. Suddenly, a hand beneath his chin tilted his head up, and he looked into the Joker's green eyes. which were filled with understanding.

"People have died for much stupider causes." Joker said softly. Batman swallowed and moved his head away.

"I can't keep doing this to people. I can't." Batman turned away and walked off. The Joker stayed where he was. 

"I don't know if I can win this fight without you." He called softly. His fists were clenched, causing the purple leather of his gloves to squeak.

Batman didn't turn around. "I hope that you can, for both our sakes." And with that, he walked into the darkness.

The Joker did not follow.


End file.
